


To Defeat Sorrow

by azurefishnets



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Fluff, Gen, attempts at found family, fatherly advice sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 19:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17689520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurefishnets/pseuds/azurefishnets
Summary: Yuna's decision is made, but she still feels unsure of her footing.





	To Defeat Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wingsyouburn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsyouburn/gifts).



> Prompt - Auron & Yuna: Auron would have looked out for Yuna beyond being her guardian and that adopted family element is something I've always wanted to explore.

Yuna stepped out of the entrance to the Farplane with most of her Guardians and smiled hesitantly at Rikku and Auron, the two who had stayed behind. The life of a Guardian seemed to be mostly waiting, it seemed—at temples, on the road, through rituals and rest, they waited for her and on her. The dichotomy between selfish and unselfish made Yuna squirm a little inside. Would she ever be independent? Could she ever say that she stood on her own, without the shadow of her father or the support of her Guardians?

“Thanks for waiting,” she said, tabling that mental digression. She had made her decision. In this at least, she must walk free from her Guardians, right or wrong. She had to find a way to serve Spira on her own terms, just as her Guardians served her. “I’ll go give my answer to Maester Seymour.”

The screams as the Unsent broke free of the bonds of the Farplane made her jump, but she turned to face existential horror head-on, as was only proper for a Summoner. Somewhere, distantly, she heard other sojourners yelling instructions and advice as her Guardians leapt to attention, but as she met Maester Jyscal’s eyes they faded to inconsequentiality. In the face of his regard, shambling and pitiful revenant though he was, she saw a warning.

“Yuna. Send him.” Auron’s gruff taciturnity cut through the stomach-churning dread.

“Why?” Yuna regretted her question immediately. She didn’t question the necessity of doing it, and the question of why he was here didn’t matter in the face of unimaginable heresy. In truth, she thought she knew why he had come. She stepped forward, preparing the Sending. Almost, she turned back as she heard Auron grunt, a pained sound that seemed to echo unpleasantly around the Farplane antechamber, but the problem in front was more pressing. As Yuna took the sphere Maester Jyscal dropped before dissipating back into pyreflies, she stored the sound away as well—another enigma regarding the man that was Sir Auron.

Through the aftermath of the Sending, through the hasty exit from Guadosalam, and through the Thunder Plains, Yuna’s mind was only partly on her pilgrimage. Rather, it was Maesters Jyscal and Seymour who occupied her thoughts. Jyscal had been a father, a man of impeccable piety by all accounts. He, like her own father, had married someone of a social stratum far removed from his own. She and Seymour were two pieces in a longer game; their union fit a puzzle Spira didn’t even know it had.

Yuna nearly missed a step as Rikku gave a sudden squeal, lightning striking so closely nearby it blinded her. She teetered, the slick mud underfoot threatening to destabilize her in her moment of inattention, but Auron reached out and steadied her. He looked down at her, eyes shadowed behind the smoked lenses of his glasses, face all but hidden by his high collar, but said nothing.

She pulled away. If she couldn’t even walk through these drenched plains without being propped up, it boded ill for her pilgrimage. She began to speak, but he shook his head at her. “Not now. It’s not the time.” He turned and began to walk again, ignoring her wide-eyed gaze.

“ _Why not?”_ she wanted to say, but it was true that the middle of the Thunder Plains was not the place for deep conversation. Although she enjoyed teasing Rikku, a brief respite from the dizzy swirl of nerves and fear the Maester’s appearance had provoked, it was a relief to take a break at the travel agency. She needed time. Her conviction, so firmly held when she had left the Farplane, had been shaken.

She watched the sphere as soon as she found herself alone, but was relieved to be interrupted. It was impossible to gainsay the truth of Lord Jyscal’s assertions, but how _could_ it be true? And if it was true, how could Maester Seymour have done that to his own father? And if he would do that to his own father, what could he do to her? Her mind spiraled away from even darker thoughts as she ran from the probing glances of her Guardians. She found herself sitting outside on a convenient barrel under the eaves, watching the rain pour and lightning spear from the heavens. It smelled of mold and constant damp out here. She could feel her skin getting clammy and wrinkling at the fingertips, but this suited her dark mood better than the warmth and light from the rooms inside.

Slowly, the building behind her quieted. She knew some of her Guardians, at least, would not sleep until she did, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to go inside, not yet. She wasn’t surprised that someone eventually came to check on her; she was most surprised to find it was Auron who had done so.

He sat down on the barrel next to her. Even sitting, he was taller than she, but for once, she could actually see more of his face than his forehead.

“Ask. If I can answer, I will.”

“Sir Auron—” she paused. She wasn’t even sure what to ask, exactly. He had been her father’s friend, long ago. Solemn and serious, always, but he had been kind, when she was young. He had brought her a doll from Bevelle once. It had had mismatched eyes, like hers, and she’d heard him tell her father he’d had it made specially for her. It was still back in Besaid somewhere; she’d hidden it from Lulu so it wouldn’t get used for some strange weapon as they started out. She imagined some little girl might find it someday—a memento of the lady summoner from Besaid. Perhaps even a remembrance of the High Summoner from Besaid.

She’d gotten distracted and been silent for too long—Sir Auron was stirring, about to get up and leave. That was a difference from her childhood. He was no longer patient. The kindness that had seemed so easily given was absent now.

“No, please stay, Sir Auron. I—I have been wanting to ask you some things for some time.”

“Very well.” He settled back, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, face impassive.

“Did—did he ever speak of me? After you left on the pilgrimage?” The question surprised her even as she heard herself speaking it. She hadn’t meant to ask about her father. She’d meant to ask where he’d been. About the end of his previous pilgrimage. About Yevon, and about Jyscal. And yet, she desperately wanted to know this answer above all.

Auron’s eyebrows rose behind his glasses. He was silent for a moment. “He spoke of you frequently at first, yes.”

“Oh. But he stopped?”

Auron hesitated again, then shook his head. “Not stopped, but less as we finished the pilgrimage.”

“I see.” Yuna wasn’t sure she did. Had he been trying to forget her? She couldn’t blame him if that was the case. She was sure she must have caused him great grief over the years; she was a permanent reminder of his disgrace before Yevon, after all. They had never let her forget it, back in Bevelle.

“Sir Auron, do you think he stopped thinking of me?” She rushed to fill in the silence. “It’s just—it’s just that Lord Jyscal is clearly still bonded to his son, even after death. He came to meet me. Surely it’s because I am connected to Maester Seymour.” She looked down at her hands, twisting nervously in her lap. “My father, even before he left, was very much preoccupied with his coming pilgrimage. I felt sometimes that he couldn’t wait to get away from me. I tried to understand. Spira is more important than a seven-year old girl. But…”

Auron tipped his head back, staring into the sky. It was full dark now; she couldn’t imagine how he could still see behind his dark glasses, but she wasn’t sure he was staring into the same world she was right now in any case.

She finished her thought. “But, Sir Auron, I need to know. Would he… would my father be proud of this? Of what I’m doing?” _Would he want me to do this thing I must do for Spira’s sake?_

Auron was silent, no doubt regretting coming out to see this whiny excuse for a Summoner. Yuna sighed and stood, futilely attempting to brush some of the muddy smears from the damp barrel away. “I’m sorry, Sir Auron. I shouldn’t be asking you these things.”

His mouth twitched, then settled back to his habitual sternness, “I told you before to ask. Don’t apologize.” He uncrossed his arms, brows knitted in an expression that made him look oddly boyish. “Braska didn’t speak of you often near the end, it’s true, at least not to me. I’m not a father. Perhaps he felt I wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, but—”

“And Jecht was— well, he was Jecht. He talked about his son all the time, but never without making sure we knew how much he didn’t care about him.” His mouth quirked again. “He never could be honest, Jecht.”

It was Yuna’s turn to be silent. Sir Jecht was an even greater enigma than Sir Auron. Her father had at least been kind and considerate to her before he left. Poor Tidus didn’t even have those memories. A thought made her look up.

“But you’ve been watching over Tidus all this time, haven’t you? Like a father, in a way.”

“A very small way, I suppose.” If Auron’s eyes hadn’t already been covered, she was sure they would have been totally opaque. His tone was flat and discouraging.

“Well, could you answer as you think my father might have?” It came out in a rush, voice small. “Sir Auron, are you proud of me?” _Father, are you proud of me?_

“More than anything I’ve done in life.” Sir Auron’s voice rang confident, louder than the ever-present storm, leaving no room for doubt. “Never question that.”

“Oh!” Yuna’s eyes filled with tears. “I—thank you, Sir Auron, I—you don’t know what—”

“Yuna.”

“Yes.” She stood straight, waiting, ignoring the rain trickling down her neck.

“Braska would tell you to have the courage of your convictions. He believed that Spira desperately needed joy, a reason to go on despite Sin. He felt he had to be that joy, not only for you, but for all the other fatherless children.”

“Yes, I know.” Yuna’s eyes slid to the side. She knew he had had that duty, but it had rankled, sometimes, growing up, that she hadn’t been able to keep him to herself. He was like the world’s father more than he was her own.

“But you were the source of his joy, and if he didn't speak of you to me, I know you were always in his thoughts.” Auron looked up at her. It was strange to see his face this way. He seemed so vulnerable. “And in mine. Everything I’ve done since I returned has been because I believe, and have believed since you were that little girl I knew, that you are the equal or even the better of Braska in will. You will make the right choice.”

Yuna found herself standing a little taller; her mind felt a little clearer. For a moment in her blurring vision, her father himself could have been the man standing there. Her vision cleared, and it was just Auron yet again, but perhaps, she thought, a little less enigmatic than before.

“Thank you, Sir Auron.” She smiled, a little less hesitant now. “I hope you find the peace you have given me.”

He stepped back, his outline seeming to blur just a little, although it might have been just a trick of the rain. His voice, when he spoke, was impassive as ever. “Perhaps.”

Yuna could tell the moment was over. He had withdrawn back to himself, but for just a moment, she felt she had seen to the Auron she remembered as a girl. She nodded and turned to go inside. After a moment, he followed.

As they set out again the next morning after a sleepless night, Yuna knew her decision was made. As she watched Auron’s broad back while they continued slogging through the mud, she felt a sense of reassurance she hadn’t had before. Her father was gone, but Sir Auron was here and he trusted her to guide her own steps. Perhaps that was a start to saving Spira after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, @wingsyouburn! I enjoyed being your Chocobox 2019 exchange gifter and I hope you like this little vignette. I certainly enjoyed writing it!


End file.
